


Breathing the Earth Air

by Curator



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Gen, Healthy Relationships, Mental Health Issues, Post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-09-28 14:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17185100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator
Summary: Chapter 1: Kathryn Janeway struggles to adjust to life back on Earth. With help from Reg Barclay, old friends, and counseling, Kathryn just may truly find her way home.Chapter 2: When Kathryn can’t stop Voyager from becoming a museum in her timeline, she has to learn how to live with it — and her anger toward Chakotay for making it happen.





	1. Breathing the Earth Air

“You look a bit, ah, overwhelmed.”

Reg Barclay held his synthehol near his chest, as he did when he was nervous. He was nervous in general, but almost always at big parties like this one.

“How could you tell?” Kathryn Janeway replied. When she had felt the internal shift, she had been careful to stay in the ballroom, appear interested in conversations, and act as if she could still hear the classical music over the roar of her thoughts.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed myself,” Reg admitted.

Her eyes focused on his.

“Would you like to take a walk?” she asked, placing her synthehol on the nearest cocktail table.

He glanced around the party, then put his synthehol next to hers.

“Yes. That’s a great idea.”

A few minutes later, they were on the sidewalk. Kathryn seemed to be taking unusually slow, deep breaths of the San Francisco air. Reg cleared his throat and was about to ask if she was all right when she explained.

“I’m not used to simply stepping outside,” Kathryn said. “We had away missions, of course. But, I’ve been breathing starship air for a long time.”

“That’s — that’s understandable,” he said.

Kathryn was telling the truth. She had missed the air on Earth. But, she also was trying to regulate her breathing, stay centered on the moment.

She wasn’t succeeding.

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“I can’t tell you how many times I envisioned a ‘ _Voyager_ welcome home’ gala,” she said. “That party was everything I could have wanted.”

Reg knew what breathing regulation techniques looked like. He knew how it felt to want to leave a party, even a good one. He decided to give Kathryn an opening and let her choose whether to take it.

“You seemed to be having fun on the dance floor earlier in the evening,” he said. “What changed?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “It comes and goes.”

“What comes and goes?”

She breathed deeply but didn’t answer and he didn’t ask again.

***

The next morning brought _Voyager_ promotions. There was a ceremony followed by a reception. Kathryn said polite things to everyone who congratulated her. When her eyes rested on a new pip on the collar of a former crew member, she forced her tight smile to widen into a more appropriate one.

But she couldn’t help her uniform situation.

The turtleneck had to be the right size, she told herself, tugging at the neckline yet again. Yet, it somehow seemed to constrict a little more with every conversation.

There was a lull in well-wishers. She stopped by her mother and sister’s table and said she would be back in a few minutes. Then, pulling the turtleneck forward by a few centimeters, Kathryn hurried down a long hallway and out onto front steps of Starfleet Command.

 _Never go_ _back_ , her mind hissed.

Starfleet had assigned a counselor to each member of the _Voyager_ crew. Kathryn had shared her unexpected difficulties adjusting to life back home, quickly adding she was sure it would get easier once she got into the swing of her new assignments.

“That’s entirely possible, but why are _you_ reassuring _me_?” the counselor had asked.

The question had brought on a familiar headache for Kathryn, and she had pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.

“Because I’ve been telling myself for the last seven years that my crew would make it home. It’s been a singular focus on bringing that self-reassurance to fruition.”

“So,” the counselor had replied, “what happens now that your reassurance came true and you can broaden your focus?”

Her mind on the recent counseling session, Kathryn’s feet had led her to Starfleet Academy’s rose gardens. She found a bench and sat. She took a few slow, deep breaths.

The turtleneck felt less restrictive.

Kathryn wasn’t sure how long she had been there when her commbadge chirped.

The voice was a whisper: “Barclay to Janeway.”

Reg had been at the promotion ceremony as a guest of multiple grateful _Voyager_ crew members.

She tapped her badge. “Go ahead.”

“People were just starting to ask for you when Admiral Hayes began to speak. So, you have maybe 10 minutes before they start to ask again.”

“Thank you,” she said, her uniform neckline tightening again as she stood from the bench. “I’m on my way.”

Back through the gardens and up the steps and into the luncheon, Kathryn sat next to her mother.

“Is it happening again?” Gretchen Janeway asked.

“Mom, stop.”

Gretchen reached over to correct her daughter’s skewed turtleneck. “What did the counselor say?”

“To try not to let it happen again.” Kathryn craned her head.

“How?” With a pat, the neckline was in place again.

“By staying social, avoiding isolation.”

“Then take the counselor’s advice, OK?”

”I had planned to.”

When Admiral Hayes finished his impromptu but substantial oration, the luncheon began to break up. Kathryn chatted and shook hands with some of her new colleagues, then walked over to Reg.

“Thanks,” she said.

He reddened slightly. “It’s no problem.”

“That’s two parties now where you have helped me out. I realize we’ve only known each other in person for a little over two weeks, but I consider you a friend. Would you like to go to dinner together one night soon?”

 _He’s not stuck on the other side of the galaxy with you, so why would he_ _choose to spend time with you?_ her mind spat.

“Oh! Yes, I would like that very much.” Reg held his synthehol to his chest

“Is Zed’s still around?”

“The Betazoid restaurant? It sure is. It hasn’t changed a bit.”

_Do you remember how to socialize with someone who isn’t from your crew?_

“Perfect. Tuesday at 1900 hours at Zed’s?”

“It’s a date!” Reg said and paled when he heard his own words. “I mean, it’s a dinner. Not a dinner date. Just a dinner. Not a date. Dinner.”

Kathryn smiled – her first true smile of the day.

***

On Tuesday, the owner of Zed’s greeted her warmly, “Kathryn! Welcome back! It’s been a long time, but you don’t want to think about all that. Come, come, your friend Reg is waiting for you at table six.”

The walls were thick with purple and green plants common on Betazed, and each rock-sculpted table held plates and cutlery as well as a small version of the gong some Betazoids struck to ring in thanks for their food. Luminescent flowers crisscrossed the ceiling. The floor was under an ankle-high mist.

Reg stood slightly when Kathryn approached table six.

She hesitated a moment, then reasoned since they both were wearing civilian clothes, Reg wasn’t reacting to her rank, but was, instead, displaying an outdated but charming sense of chivalry.

 _Because you_ _just need to make a decision even when there’s no need to?_

“You were right,” she said, joining Reg at the table. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Is that good?” Reg asked.

They both sat and then she replied in a tone more pensive than he had expected.

“I think so.”

A waiter arrived with two cups of water and a bowl of Oskoid leaves.

“Just as you wanted,” the waiter said. “I’ll bring your entrees when you are ready.”

Kathryn reached for an Oskoid leaf. Now, this was relaxing — chatting with a new friend, hearing the gentle gong-sounds, not even having to order food; a Betazoid restaurant with Reg definitely had been the right choice. She was going to focus on him, on his voice, not the anxiety-fueled one in her head.

“Reg, what was the greatest moment of your life?” she asked, crunching on her leaf.

“Well, it’s complicated, but I once met Zefram Cochrane.”

Reg dipped his head, bashful his memory sounded so outlandish.

She couldn’t help the peal of laughter that escaped her. “Time travel?”

“Exactly!” Reg’s shoulders relaxed and he reached for a leaf and took a small bite.

“I’m usually not a fan of time travel, but I have to know: What did you say to him?” Kathryn leaned forward in her chair.

“Oh, I stammered and generally made a fool of myself,” he admitted. “But, I got to shake his hand and tell him what an honor it was to meet him.”

“That’s incredible. Zefram Cochrane!”

He wasn’t used to anyone being truly interested in his stories, so Reg wasn’t sure what to say. He finally replied: “Just another day in Starfleet, right?”

“Yes!” Kathryn sat up straight, like a schoolgirl proud to know the answer to a teacher’s question. “I got to meet Amelia Earhart — once she awoke from being cryogenically preserved, of course.”

“Oh, yes. I read about that in the logs you sent back,” Reg said, nodding. “She always was an inspiration to me, too. I admired her bravery.”

“Reg,” Kathryn said as she took an Oskoid leaf and folded it in half. “Have you ever had counseling related to emotional instability?”

“Yes, quite a bit,” he replied, unsure why she was asking but wondering if it had to do with her breathing the other night. “I’m sure you could access my file if you wanted to.”

 “I’d rather chat about it as friends, if you don’t mind.” She folded the leaf into quarters.

“I don’t mind,” he said.

Kathryn folded the leaf into eighths. “I’ve been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety due to sudden change in life circumstance, and survivor’s guilt. My counselor also said I’m at risk of a recurrence of depression, something that’s knocked me down twice before in my life.” She attempted to fold the leaf into sixteenths and it cracked. “What do you think about that?”

Reg reached into the bowl on the table and handed Kathryn a fresh Oskoid leaf. She took a bite and put the cracked one on her plate where, free from her grip, it began to unfold.

“As someone with a history of social anxiety and holo-addiction, not to mention hypochondria and transporter phobia, I’d say your counselor may be able to be of great help to you,” he said. “Most days, I feel a lot better about things. But, I also think you’ve only been back a little over two weeks and some adjustment is normal.”

“Like a pendulum.” Kathryn’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at her own attempt to insert science into emotions.

“Exactly!” Reg’s engineering mind clicked right along with her analogy. “A lot of people want stability, and I understand that as a goal. But learning to recognize the pendulum swings and not get swept away by them can be incredibly helpful in the meantime.” He decided to honor Kathryn’s honesty with his own. “I, ah, noticed your breathing regulation technique the other night, when we took that walk during the welcome home party. That’s a good way to help even out the pendulum.”

She flushed. “If you knew what it was, why didn’t you say something?”

”I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it or not.”

“That’s fair,” she conceded. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk about it or not, either.”

”It can be very helpful,” Reg said softly.

”Talking about it?”

”Well, that too. I meant the breathing regulation technique. A counselor taught me about it years ago and, even when I don’t need it, it’s nice to know it’s there.”

Kathryn smoothed out her cracked leaf and forced herself to ask: “Does it makes you feel differently about someone when you see that person practicing the breathing regulation technique?”

”I think I’m supposed to say ‘no, of course not’ to a question like that, but that’s not true. The truth is I feel I can be myself around that person, like I won’t be judged for my own mental health struggles.”

Kathryn sagged with relief and was opening her mouth to speak when their waiter returned with a bag emblazoned with the Zed’s logo.

“You both decided you would rather have takeout.” The waiter smirked. “Go ahead, we will see you here another time.”

Kathryn’s eyes went wide and Reg began to cough.

 _Humans, what a bunch of prudes_ , the waiter thought. His co-workers mentally chortled in agreement.

“I wanted takeout because of our discussion,” Reg said once they were walking outside. He gently swung the Zed’s bag by its handles.

“Look, Reg,” Kathryn stopped and faced him, the memory of the waiter’s smirk weighing on her thoughts. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I find you attractive. But, I’m not looking for anything more right now. I’ve had an ... interesting ... couple of weeks. I just want a friend I can talk with, OK?”

“Of course, of course,” he replied, having had no idea she found him attractive until she said so. But, if she wasn’t looking for anything, he reasoned it didn’t really matter how she saw him. There was no need to become date-level nervous.

They walked on.

Reg cleared his throat. “We can talk at my apartment. Just as friends. It’s not far from here. We can walk there.”

“Lead the way,” Kathryn replied.

Four blocks over and twenty floors up, on Reg’s sofa, they were almost instantly joined by a nearly all-white ball of fluff.

“Is this the Neelix you’ve told me about?” Kathryn asked. She scratched the cat’s chin, appreciating the tufts of white whiskers along his eyebrows and cheeks.

“It is,” Reg confirmed.

The cat pushed his head into the side of Kathryn’s face. “Is he always so friendly?”

“Everyone he meets is his newest and best friend.”

“Just like the real Neelix.” Kathryn’s eyes shined.

Reg indulged his curiosity.

“Tell me about him — the real Neelix. Something not in the reports.”

Kathryn thought of a sunny demeanor in the worst of circumstances, of an eagerness that would be grating if it wasn’t followed so swiftly by action, of a heart that beat for others, always. Yet, what she blurted out was, “He made the worst coffee!”

Through smiles and tears, she reminisced about Neelix. She and Reg talked about the pressures she felt in the Delta Quadrant, about Reg’s discomfort on the _Enterprise_ , about the loneliness ship assignments could bring, about the excitement of being out there exploring. They also laughed until their sides hurt: “You were a de-evolved _spider_?” “You were a hyper-evolved _lizard_?”

It was after midnight when Reg realized they had never opened the bag of Betazoid food. He offered to go into the kitchen to get silverware. When he returned with a handful of forks, knives, and spoons, Kathryn was standing.

“I’d better beam home,” she said. She ignored the voice in her mind telling her she had overstayed her welcome. Instead she explained, “It’s late.”

“All — all right,” Reg replied. “I’ll walk you to the transporter station.”

“No need,” she spoke quickly. “But, let’s do this again, OK?”

“Sure,” Reg said, and she left.

After a moment, he reached into the Zed’s bag and opened a food container. It was empty except for a note: “We knew you weren’t going to eat tonight. Hope it was a good talk.”

***

A few days later, Reg closed his eyes, held his breath, and sent Kathryn a text communique from his console at work: “Dinner at my place tomorrow night at 1900? I’ll replicate whatever you like best.”

After a minute, his console beeped with a reply: “I would like that. Thank you.”

A few buildings over from his relieved smile, Kathryn sat at her desk and called out permission for Admiral Paris to enter her new office.

“We’ve been working on assembling a team for you,” he told her, thrusting a padd in her direction. “Here’s a list of Starfleet Command and field personnel you can access.”

She scrolled through the names, then stopped. “Why is Reg Barclay on this list? I thought I was going to be leading scientific analysis. He’s an engineer.”

Admiral Paris motioned to one of the chairs in Kathryn’s office and she nodded. He sat and explained, “We thought he could be useful on the equipment side. Plus, Reg needs a supervisor who can understand him. Some people think he’s slow. He’s the opposite. Reg is so fast, he completes the project assigned and starts another one without permission. Or, he seems to be working on something unrelated that turns out to be the root cause of whatever he was assigned to do — but not in a way anyone else understood. He’s unorthodox, passionate about his work, even defiant when he thinks he’s right.”

“Sounds like a good officer.”

“He’s a great officer.”

Kathryn pushed aside her own concerns and studied the man slumped in her chair.

“Admiral, have you been sleeping at night?”

Admiral Paris grinned. “Not a wink. Miral didn’t get her lungs from the Paris side, I’ll tell you that. Tom and B’Elanna are great parents, though. I’m grateful my wife and I are able to help them.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“What about you?”

“Sleeping? No. My counselor recommended I keep a window open, let the Earth sounds lull me to sleep. It didn’t work.” Kathryn glanced down at her desk. She had thought an assignment at Starfleet Command would be a refuge, that she wouldn’t have to make these types of choices anymore. “Admiral Paris, would it be detrimental to Reg Barclay’s career if I chose a different engineer for my team?”

“Not at all. I simply thought you could use a top notch officer.”

“I could, but I need him more as a friend.”

Was the relief obvious in her voice? To be able to pull personnel from so many sources, to have less of a role in shaping any one officer’s career — the distance of her new rank could make a social life so much easier.

Admiral Paris pushed himself up from the chair. “I know you said you wanted to work, but just let me or any other senior Starfleet official know if you decide you want some time off. I know about this coming Monday morning. Don’t come in at all on Monday, all right?”

“Is that an order?” She bristled.

“It’s a suggestion.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

When his doorbell chimed at 1900 hours on Saturday, Reg was ready.

On the coffee table sat appetizers from five different planets, none of which required silverware. He had water, two kinds of juice, three kinds of synthehol, plus hot coffee, all replicated and ready. He decided against having music playing, but in favor of lights at 90 percent.

He had been very stern with himself in the mirror, “Kathryn is a friend, not a date. You can relax ... well, as much as possible.”

Kathryn walked in, saw the table, and grinned. “You wanted to be sure we ate more than a leaf or two this time?”

“Exactly,” Reg said, once again gratified she seemed to understand him without the need for an explanation.

Neelix jumped onto the food-and-drink-laden table.

“No, no, no,” Reg whispered and picked up the cat.

“May I hold him?” Kathryn asked, shrugging off her civilian jacket.

Reg handed her the ball of mostly white fluff. The purring cat on her lap, Kathryn asked Reg to tell her, again, about the time on the _Enterprise_ when he gained super-genius abilities. When he finished the story, she leaned back against the sofa cushions.

“Did it change you?”

“I think so. It showed me, no matter what, I’m still me. I used to want very badly to be someone else.”

“Why?”

Kathryn already knew the hologram Reg had made of himself and sent to _Voyager_ was significantly more outgoing and assertive than the man she was getting to know on Earth. But, she preferred this thoughtful person to the brash photons.

“Oh, I suppose I thought other people were naturally better at things I wanted to be good at, like making friends or being romantic. But, that experience showed me everyone has to work at something.” Reg glanced at the table. “This, ah, former super-genius just realized you can’t reach any food because Neelix fell asleep on your lap. Can I give you anything? Replicate you something different?”

“Will he wake up if I eat?”

“No, he’s a sound sleeper.”

“Then, please, a few pieces of everything — and a cup of coffee.”

Reg made Kathryn a plate and placed it next to her on the sofa. He poured and handed her a cup of coffee. The time seemed right to say what he had been waiting all evening to say.

“I want to apologize to you.”

“What in the world for?” she asked, holding the coffee cup in one hand and using the other hand to pop a Bajorian Moba fruit into her mouth. Not too sweet, not too tart —perfect.

“You said I was attractive the other night,” Reg blushed but forced himself to continue as he had rehearsed. “I should have said so then, but, of course, I find you attractive, too.”

Kathryn snickered and put her free hand to her mouth to keep the Moba fruit from spilling out. Reg’s blush intensified.

“A lot of people have laughed at me,” he said. “Are you?”

Kathryn swallowed her Moba fruit, dismayed to have inadvertently hurt her new friend’s feelings.

 _All that time away dulled your social skills, didn’t it?_ her mind demanded.

“I apologize, Reg. I would never laugh at you. I actually was laughing in surprise. I was in space with substantially the same people for seven years. I’m not used to compliments on my general appearance.”

“Oh,” he said, willing himself to believe her.

Suddenly cold, she wrapped both hands around her coffee mug. “People have laughed at you?”

“Many times.” He spoke with the quiet resolve of the wounded.

“I’m sorry, Reg.”

“That’s all right.”

“I can ask this without violating protocol: You do know you’re incredibly well-respected at Starfleet Command? Not just for what you did with _Voyager_ and Project Pathfinder, but in general, as an officer.”

“I’d heard.” Reg smiled thinly. “But it’s nice to hear again.”

“You’re also very easy to talk to.” Kathryn wondered if she was lapsing into her old habit of announcing results of her scientific analysis.

“I am?” his smile widened.

“Yes.” The room felt warmer again and she took a small sip of coffee. “Are you part El-Aurian?” she asked, referencing the species famed for its listening talent.

“Oh, no,” he blushed again and his smile finally reached his eyes. This time they laughed together.

“I think it’s your openness,” Kathryn said. She picked up another Moba fruit and veered into a definite announcement of results of her scientific analysis. “My counselor recommended I try to be more social. I knew instantly you were someone I wanted to spend time with. When I was on _Voyager_ , it meant so much to me when you arranged to send the live view of Earth. Then, once I got back, you were so considerate of my feelings at those two parties. Your empathy makes you a very comfortable person to be around.”

“I usually feel uncomfortable around everyone,” Reg admitted. “But, ah, not with you.”

They stared at each other. He had spoken from the heart, and Reg, noticing the way she looked at him, suddenly wondered if he had been wrong when he had admonished his reflection earlier.

Was this a date and he hadn’t realized it?

Kathryn gently scooped the sleeping cat off her lap and onto the sofa. She stood, moving her food and drink to the table. This was shifting from relaxing to something else, something invigorating in a way she hadn’t anticipated and wasn’t ready for, at least not tonight. She had known Reg was tall and slim with a brilliant mind and tender soul. But she also suddenly noticed how big his hands were. No, this wasn’t a good idea right now.

“I’d better beam home.”

He spoke quickly: “Are you going to move to San Francisco?” Reg knew Kathryn said she was going to leave for the night, but he wanted just a few more minutes with someone he had been able to be himself around.

“Yes. I’ve been looking at apartments,” she said, putting on her civilian jacket. “I haven’t found anything I like yet. But, staying with my mother in Indiana certainly isn’t my long-term plan.”

“You could stay here.”

The words left Reg’s mouth without stopping by his brain, but, when he heard them, he loved the way they sounded.

She sat down. “Reg, I —”

“In whatever capacity you want. This floorplan has movable walls, so the apartment easily could become a two-bedroom. I can change my schedule so I would be in a lab when you would be here. No, no, no pressure. Just a place to live in San Francisco. I’m walking distance to Starfleet Command and once a year you can see Federation Day fireworks from the living room windows.” He motioned toward the view and they both looked at the San Francisco skyline.

Her mind raced.

His froze.

“I need to think about it and let you know in a few days,” Kathryn said. “Reg,” she added softly, “have people ever taken advantage of your good nature?”

“Ah, yes.”

“I won’t be one of them.”

Kathryn was out the door before Reg realized he never replicated a main course.

She sent him a text communique when she got home: “I’m not going to be at work on Monday. Do you want to have dinner in San Francisco on Tuesday?”

He wrote back: “Sounds great. Would you like to meet here and then decide where to eat?”

She replied, “Good plan,” then rolled over and tried to sleep.

At the kitchen table the next morning, her mother asked, “Did the counselor say why you slept nearly all the time after your father died but can’t sleep now?”

“It’s not depression, Mom. It’s other things.”

”Anxiety?”

”Yes. ’As a result of a drastic and unexpected change in environment.’”

“Hmmm. More coffee?”

“Please.”

Gretchen poured from a carafe into each of their two mugs and they sat together, sipping.

Then, Gretchen said, “Mark came by with Mollie again yesterday.” Kathryn raised her eyebrows, but just barely. “I told him you were in San Francisco but to come again this morning. Mark has stayed close with your sister and me for all these years. He made sure we felt welcome at his wedding. He wants to talk with you.”

Kathryn finished her coffee and got up to put her mug in the sonic cleaner.

”I’m not ready to see Mark. Please understand that.”

“Why?”

Images swam before Kathryn. Mark trying to hold her attention from her computer screen when _Voyager_ was docked at Deep Space Nine. The displacement wave. Explosions. Crewmembers injured or dead. The array.

“Because I’ve hurt a lot of people, Mom, and I don’t want to see any of them.”

“You’re hurting people by avoiding them.”

“I‘m choosing my battles.” Kathryn’s knuckles had gone white against the sonic cleaner.

“But you’re going on Monday?”

“Yes. I owe them that.... I’ll send Mark a text communique not to come today.” Kathryn unclenched her hands and pulled away from the sonic cleaner. “Maybe another day.”

Kathryn knew the equivocation was a cheat, but she didn’t want to continue the now-familiar argument.

***

Monday morning, Kathryn stood at the bottom of the steps to Starfleet Command. She took a few deep breaths, unsure whether it was for the Earth air or to try to calm herself.

She wondered why the sessions had to be at headquarters.  

 _Why does the place matter?_ another part of her mind shot back. _You_ _know what you did._

She walked up the stairs, her pace as brisk and crisp as any other officer’s despite the turmoil in her brain.

“Kathryn,” her counselor said. “How are you feeling today?”

“Improving,” Kathryn said honestly. “I use the breathing regulation technique as needed. I’ve made a friend. I’m trying to allow the negative thoughts to pass without argument so I can move on, and the negative thoughts are lessening in frequency, especially when I’m more relaxed, just as you suggested they might.”

“Good. Keep at it. Let me know if you change your mind and also want some hyposprays to help you along. Your preference, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready for today?”

“Yes.” _No._

“Then let’s walk over. There’s a seat reserved for you.”

In a larger room a few doors down sat every member of the _Voyager_ crew. Some of them had been helping examine and refit the ship, a process Kathryn had wanted no part of — to the surprise of everyone, including herself. A significant number of the former members of the Maquis had quit Starfleet, eager to enjoy their legal pardons in other lines of work. But, most of _Voyager’s_ former crew had signed up for new postings within Starfleet, and some would depart from Earth in the coming days, making the timing of this session critical.

Kathryn sat in the seat labeled with her name.

Tuvok was on one side of her, Chakotay on the other. The Doctor was two seats over, and he leaned forward and waved.

“The purpose of today is closure,” the lead counselor began, standing in the middle of the large circle that was four and five crewmembers deep in some places. “Many of you spoke in your sessions about the suddenness with which your ship returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Many of you had things you wanted to say in this off-the-record, no-notes-taken circle of discussion. This is your chance.”

There was a moment of murmurs.

Then, Samantha Wildman stood and read a letter from Naomi to the whole crew to thank them in general, and Seven of Nine in particular, for making _Voyager_ “the best ship to be a kid on.”

B’Elanna Torres stood. Tom Paris sat next to her. Kathryn realized Admiral Paris must be babysitting his granddaughter and that’s how he was aware of the particulars of this session.

“She barely knew me when Captain Janeway gave me a chance, a chance to be a chief engineer on a starship. That chance led to everything — the best seven years of my life,” B‘Elanna said. “When most of you met me, I was an angry young woman with no direction. Now, I have a husband and a baby and a field commission that will allow me to continue the engineering work I love. _Voyager_ was the first place I ever felt at home. Thank you, Harry, for being my first Starfleet friend; thank you, Chakotay, for always looking out for me; and thank you, Tom, for loving me back.”

 _Naomi is a child and B’Elanna is an exception_ _._ _You know the truth._

Harry Kim stood.

“We did it!” he said. “I just keep thinking that. We did it! I thought the Kazon would be the end of us. Or the Borg. Or Species 8472. Or the Hirogen. Or who knows who. But, we did it! I’m grateful for every day we had out there and I’m also grateful we are home today. We did it!”

Seven of Nine stood and said: “My counselor reports my senses of self, humanity, and empathy to be above expectations for a human substantially raised as Borg. I wish to thank all of you, particularly Admiral Janeway and the Doctor, for your contribution to that success.”

The Doctor then stood and gave a speech in which he mostly thanked himself, but also Kathryn for allowing his programming to run, B’Elanna for helping him maintain it, and Tom for “attempting to assist me as well as Kes did during her time with us.”

Despite her attempts to ignore it, Kathryn’s mind was screaming so loudly it became the only thing she could hear.

_You know what you did_ _._

_They’re still too respectful of your rank to say what they really think_ _._

_You can try to restart your life on Earth, but they know the truth and so do you._

When Chakotay moved to stand, Kathryn pulled him down by the arm with such force that she was propelled to her feet.

“I appreciate,” she said, her head pounding, “the words of gratitude each of you has expressed so far and yet I presume there are other topics to be discussed this morning. _Voyager_ was a family. But, now that we’re home, don’t you see starkly how you missed the life you should have led? Naomi first got to hug her own father just a couple of weeks ago. Tuvok met his grandchildren that same day, grandchildren he could have known since the day each of them was born. So many of you had loved ones move on or even die while we were in the Delta Quadrant. Aren’t you angry about that? Good crewmembers lost their lives out there. We all know this was my fault and now you can say whatever you want to say with no repercussions.”

Her knees collapsed and she sat.

There was silence for a moment.

Then, Tuvok stood.

“I am angry,” he said dispassionately.

“Tuvok!” Chakotay admonished.

“Only those standing may speak,” a counselor called out.

Tuvok continued: “Among the better-known logical fallacies is to frame an argument substituting the emotion of anger for evidence. Thus, I shall demonstrate the fallacy and argue anger should be the emotion of choice at this time despite the evidence that Starfleet personnel die every day in the Alpha Quadrant, despite the evidence that all Starfleet officers on starship deployment know they may miss lifecycle events on their home worlds, and, most importantly, despite the evidence that we are, indeed, home safely. To answer the question of fault, although context indicates our former captain was speaking of the abrupt decision she made that led to our years-long isolation in the Delta Quadrant, I believe there also is ‘fault’ to be placed upon her for leading us to defeat multiple foes, to stand firm in our convictions even in dire circumstances, and, finally, to manifest a clear vision of a return to Earth. As I have said before, _Voyager_ was led by a captain for whom guilt was a constant companion. However, that mission is complete and thus the guilt, logically, should abate.”

Tuvok sat.

There was silence.

Tears leaked from Kathryn’s eyes, but she didn’t move or speak.

Her mind, for the moment, was still.

A counselor stood: “We know many more of you have something you wish to say. We will take a five-minute break. It’s my understanding Harry Kim is working to organize annual reunions, so please be sure he has a way to reach those of you leaving Starfleet.”

There was standing, stretching, and the scuffling of feet as people moved around the room. Many embraced their former shipmates.

“Kathryn,” a counselor crouched in front of her, holding a tissue, “was this not what you expected?”

Kathryn took the tissue and wiped her eyes.

“This was not at all what I expected.” She turned to Tuvok, “Thanks, old friend.”

When the session ended, Kathryn stopped by her office to send a quick text communique and then beam home.

She sat cross-legged in her mother’s front yard, waiting.

She took deep breaths and the breathing regulation technique helped her calm down.

She examined insects, bent blades of grass to determine their rate of photosynthesis, and observed a dry area that needed additional watering. The cumulus clouds indicated low likelihood of rain.

Kathryn considered going to get the hose to water the dry area when, from around the corner, in a moment both extraordinary and achingly familiar, came the broad shoulders and, walking alongside him, shiny brown fur.

“Hi, Kath,” Mark said shyly.

Mollie sniffed Kathryn’s hair and arms. The dog put her face up to Kathryn’s and stared, still sniffing. Kathryn slowly raised her hand to rub Mollie’s ears.

“Do you remember this, sweet girl?” Kathryn asked, touching the fur that was just as soft as always.

Mollie sat back and howled a sound of pure joy. Then, the dog tackled Kathryn, licking her face, jumping and barking in excitement.

For the second time that day, Kathryn wept with gratitude.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw her this happy,” Mark said.

“I’m honored,” Kathryn replied. She was dirty, covered in dog slobber, and grinning.  

Mollie shifted and Kathryn sat up.

Mark sat next to them.

“Every time I would replay one of your old subspace letters, she would come running,” he said. “If Starfleet messaged me about the search for your ship, she somehow knew it was about you and would stand there, waiting for me to tell her when you would come home. There were so many days and nights when I would find her in the closet because she would have pulled one of your dresses off its hanger and be sleeping on it.”

Kathryn watched her fingers slide along the silky fur of Mollie’s ears.

Mark continued: “For your memorial, we buried one of your tennis rackets in a box with your name on it. Mollie cried for days. I told her when Starfleet made contact with you that you were OK, but her mind was made up. I think, after all this time, she needed to see you for herself.”

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Kathryn said quietly.

“Kath, why didn’t you write me back? I know you got my letter.”

Kathryn looked into his so-familiar eyes. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You always know what to say.”

“Then I didn’t know how to say it.”

“I’ll accept that.”

Mollie was sitting between Kathryn and Mark. Kathryn realized they must look like the photo she had on _Voyager_ — except everything had changed.

“You can see her anytime you like,” Mark said. “She can even stay with you here when you want her to. I know she’s been with me all this time, but she’s still as much your dog as you want her to be.”

He was trying to connect with her somehow, she knew, but Kathryn wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

“I’m moving out,” she said simply.

“Another mission? I thought you got promoted to Starfleet Command.”

“I did. I’m going to live in San Francisco.”

“Well, Mollie can stay with you there whenever you want her to.”

“Thank you.”

“Kath, I —”

She took a deep breath of Earth air and spoke what she didn’t know how to write when she had received Mark’s letter.

“I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy. I understand you can love different people in different ways at different points in your life. It’s OK.”

Mark exhaled a breath Kathryn hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“She wants to meet you, Kath, maybe even be your friend.”

“Give me some time on that.”

They said their goodbyes and arranged for Mark to pick Mollie up the next morning. Soon, Mollie was softly snoring on the bathroom rug while Kathryn soaked in the tub. By the time Kathryn’s mother came home, Mollie had moved to the foot of Kathryn’s bed. Mostly under a blanket, Kathryn slept on her back with her head and shoulders on a pillow and one arm stretched out over the edge of the bed.

Gretchen slipped into the room and tucked her daughter’s arm under the blanket. As Gretchen closed the door, she whispered to herself, “Some things don’t change.”

The next morning, Kathryn and Mollie padded into the kitchen for breakfast.

“Coffee and toast are on the counter,” Gretchen said from her seat at the table.

On the floor, Mollie lapped water from one bowl and eyed some just-replicated canine nutritional supplement in a neighboring bowl.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Kathryn sipped from her coffee mug. She told her mother about the counseling session, about her meeting with Mark, about how good it felt to finally get a full night’s sleep.

“I’m so proud of you, Kathryn!”

“And tonight, I’m going to tell Reg I’m going to take him up on his offer to move in with him.”

“So soon?” Gretchen asked. “Isn’t that warp speed when impulse would do?”

“Mom,” Kathryn said, “my romantic life was in spacedock, zero k.p.h., for most of seven years. This is good.”

Gretchen blinked. “Did you say _most_ of seven years?”

Kathryn took a bite of toast, winked, grinned, and ran to change into her uniform so she could get to work in time for the command personnel morning briefing. The neckline, though not perfect, seemed more comfortable each day.

***

That evening, when Kathryn arrived at Reg’s apartment, she had a package in her arms.

“What’s this?” he asked, following her into the small kitchen.

“It’s a coffee preparation machine. I brought it today because I noticed you don’t have one, and replicated coffee just doesn’t taste the same. If I’m going to live here, I need to be able to make good coffee.”

She studied his reaction.

Elated, Reg struggled for words, but found none.

Kathryn placed the package on the kitchen counter and continued: “There’s no need to change the apartment layout or your work schedule unless you want to. I’m on a pendulum upswing right now. I know things could take another downswing, but I’m working toward that goal of stability. How does that sound?”

“That — that’s great!” Reg’s hands seemed to move more as his excitement grew, as he truly began to believe what was happening. “I mean, not about the potential pendulum downswing, but the rest of it — great!”

Kathryn smiled, satisfied with the results of this scientific analysis and decidedly not about to announce her findings until she was ready.

“So, do you want to go to Zed’s?”

“No,” Reg replied thoughtfully. “They would just kick us out again.”

“Oh, really?” Her hand went to her hip.

“I think they would know I would prefer to give you a grand tour of our apartment.” He held his arms wide to encompass the square footage — and to distract himself from his pounding heart.

She kept her poker face. “All right. Where would you like to begin the tour?”

If she was going to play poker, Reg decided she needed to lay her cards on the table.

“That depends,” he said, taking a cautious step closer to her, “on whether you’re moving in as a friend or as, ah, something more.”

Smiling, she stood on her tiptoes and crumpled the front of his uniform into her fist. With one swift motion, she pulled him toward her and kissed him, hard. Reg made a high-pitched sound that shifted quickly from surprise to delight. After a millisecond of debate with himself whether he should, he slid the tip of his tongue across her lower lip. She murmured approval and their kiss deepened. Reg blindly reached to slide the coffee preparation machine away and then lifted Kathryn by her hips onto the kitchen counter. She sighed softly into him.

Falling for Reg had been such a gentle process. She wanted to savor this first kiss for as long as possible.

When they finally broke apart, she put a hand on the countertop to steady herself. Out tumbled the results of her not-so-scientific analysis: “That was even better than I expected.”

“I’m an engineer,” Reg said, gently moving his thumb along her jawline. “I like to ensure systems function at levels that provide ... optimal satisfaction.”

“I’m a scientist,” Kathryn replied. “I like to experiment.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with surprise and a touch of alarm. She gave him a crooked grin. “Within agreed upon parameters, of course.”

“Of course,” he said and lifted her off the kitchen counter. “Let’s start the tour in the bedroom.”

“You read my mind.”


	2. Breathing Deeply: The Voyager Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kathryn Janeway can’t stop Voyager from becoming a museum in her timeline, she has to learn how to live with it — and her anger toward Chakotay for making it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 takes place nearly 10 weeks after chapter 1.

He had needed to stay unusually late in his lab at Starfleet Command, so Reg quickly walked the few blocks to the apartment. He keyed in the entry code, stepped in, and left the lights off. He could hear Mollie and Neelix snoring on the doggie bed they insisted on sharing. It was otherwise quiet, but a Reg knew she was home and awake.

“I heard what happened and I came home as soon as I could,” he said gently into the darkness.

She didn’t say anything.

Reg continued, “I’m here if you want to talk.”

He sat on the living room sofa and began reading a padd. She had gotten him started reading poetry from Earth’s 18th through 21st centuries, and he had been surprised to enjoy it. Reg figured he had a poem and a half before she would be ready.

He was correct.

“I lost,” Kathryn said from the bedroom doorway.

“I know,” Reg said. He switched off the padd. “People were talking about it during the prototype test at work this evening. They don’t know you lost, though. They think you won.”

She joined him on the sofa, lowering her head to her hands and putting her elbows on her knees.

“I hate to lose.”

“Did Chakotay make the better case?”

“Yes.” Her tone shifted from defeated to angry. “I never should have stepped aside. I should have led that refit. Then, it actually would have been a refit! How dare he change the plan? How dare he end run around me?”

Reg chose his words carefully.

“How dare he actually command _Voyager_?”

He felt her angry gaze even in the dark. He silently counted three seconds. Then, sure enough, Kathryn’s scientific mind kicked in.

“How dare he actually command _Voyager_ ,” she echoed.

Reg reached for Kathryn’s hand and held it.

“So, what do we do about it?”

She pulled her feet onto the sofa and leaned against him, her head on his chest, their hands still clasped.

“There’s nothing left to do. I’m not going to appeal. I was the only admiral who dissented. It’s going to happen: _Voyager_ will become a museum, never to fly again.”

Kathryn told Reg how Chakotay had argued Starfleet’s first ship to return home after spending significant time in the Delta Quadrant needed to be preserved for future generations.

She repeated Chakotay’s soaring words about how schoolchildren and academy cadets would be able to touch the hull and believe they, too, could brave seemingly insurmountable odds while staying true to Federation ideals.

Chakotay had shared exhibit suggestions including “making enemies into friends” in the Borg-infused area of Cargo Bay 2, “camaraderie can bring two crews together” starting with the custom-made kitchen in the mess hall, and “build toward the future” in the non-standard astrometrics lab Harry Kim and Seven of Nine had made integral to _Voyager’s_ mission.

In comparison, all of Kathryn’s arguments had sounded mechanical: It was inefficient to dock a ship capable of more time in space, relevant sections of Voyager could be moved into an existing museum and then replaced with standard Starfleet equipment, holo-imagery could substitute for walk-throughs of the actual ship.

The other admirals had shaken their heads at her.

After the vote, Admiral Hayes even said to Kathryn: “This ship is your legacy. I don’t know if your protest was modesty or actual concern, but _Voyager_ is something to be proud of, so be proud.”

Kathryn recounted all this to Reg and then said of Admiral Hayes: “Ridiculous man — telling me how to feel. The thing is, I am proud. We made incredible scientific discoveries out there, hundreds of first contacts, and, most importantly, we got home. But, do I have to have it parked here, this ship saying to everyone, ‘Let us remember she lost seven years of her life shepherding this ship and its crew through hell and back. Let us remember how her crew suffered because she put her almighty principles before her own people’?”

Reg was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “When I finally got help for my holo-addiction, I needed to say goodbye to the holograms I had spent so much time with.”

She took in breath to protest, but he continued. “I know holograms are just photons and force fields and you know _Voyager_ is just bulkheads and conduits — but I needed to have that clear moment where I took control to purposefully move my life in a new direction. I know you’ve said goodbye or stayed in touch with members of your crew. So, how do you want to say goodbye or stay in touch with _Voyager_?”

She thought about it. “That’s a good question.”

The next morning found her in Admiral Paris’ office. She leaned on his desk with both hands. Across from her, he sat with his hands folded on his lap.

“I have the right,” she said, her voice hard as dilithium.

“No, you don’t, Kathryn,” Admiral Paris said calmly. “You had the right, but you passed. You can’t step one foot on that ship without Chakotay’s approval.”

“I outrank him.”

“And you know full well he reports to me as Project Pathfinder wraps up, and I’m not going to get involved here. If you want to board _Voyager_ , you’ll need to get permission from Chakotay.”

Kathryn turned to leave, but Admiral Paris called after her and she stopped.

“I know how you think, Kathryn. I trained you to think that way. But, if you board that ship without permission, Starfleet will snap you back so hard you’ll wish you were still in the Delta Quadrant.”

At times like this, I wish I were, she thought. “Yes, sir,” she said.

Back in her own office, Kathryn took a deep breath and then sent Chakotay a text communique, “I would like to board _Voyager_. Alone. Will you grant me access?” An hour later, she received his reply, “Voyager is a historical artifact now and I’m entrusted with her protection. You can board, but I’ll accompany you.” She knew arguing over text communique would solve nothing, so Kathryn wrote back, “Tomorrow at 0430? I want to be done before your people arrive.” He replied, “See you then. Meet me at the starboard access door.”

The next morning was cold and Kathryn leaned against the ship as she waited. “Oh, Voyager,” she murmured, “You deserve better than this.”

Chakotay walked up. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Despite both their efforts, their greetings were icier than the pre-dawn air.

Chakotay keyed in the access code and the door slid open. The ship was in gray mode during the hours workers weren’t present, so the inside lights were dim. “Chakotay,” Kathryn said, keeping her tone as measured as possible as she peered into the corridor from her place on the gangplank. “I can’t give you an order but I’m asking you, please, let me on this ship by myself.”

“I don’t get it, Kathryn,” he said. “When you told me your future counterpart said Voyager would become a museum, you seemed almost proud.”

She turned to face him. “It took her 23 years to get home. _Voyager_ defined her life and made her bitter. I didn’t understand that at the time, but I’m starting to in a way that worries me. Look how this museum argument has divided us, after all we’ve been through.” She looked into his eyes for some indication he might relent. “Please, Chakotay. Please let me on this ship by myself.”

He hesitated. “You are a very stubborn woman and you didn’t get your way. How do I know you won’t damage the ship?”

“I promise you, Chakotay. I just want to say goodbye.”

“You want to say goodbye to me?”

“No. I want to say goodbye to _Voyager_.”

“ _Voyager_ isn’t going anywhere.”

“That’s the point!” She was coming dangerously close to shouting, so Kathryn took a deep breath and steadied herself. “I pored over specs for this ship for three months while she was under construction. I knew every centimeter of her before she left spacedock. Voyager was the fastest — for computer processing and for warp speed. Engineers all over Starfleet were waiting to see what she could do. I was proud to be the first to captain her through space, but I didn’t think I would be the last. That ship I was so excited to command became our home and our protector for seven years ... and now she’s going to be a spectacle who attracts every disaster voyeur in the quadrant.”

Chakotay was so angry he practically spit his words. “Voyager is going to be an inspiration! Your leadership is going to be an inspiration! Your crew is going to be an inspiration!”

Knowing diplomacy was all she had, Kathryn put her hand on his shoulder. “I know I’m not going to convince you. But, we’ve argued before, and our friendship has survived. So, please, as my friend, let me say goodbye to my ship in my way. I give you my word I won’t harm her. Please, Chakotay, remember ... remember when you used to trust me.”

Chakotay looked away and seemed to be staring at something in the distance. Then he looked at Kathryn with an intensity in his eyes she hadn’t seen in years. “I won’t let anyone in until you finish. Come back out this access door.”

“Thank you.”

Kathryn walked in and the door closed behind her. The air just inside the ship was heavy with San Francisco humidity. It hadn’t felt like this the last time she had been on _Voyager_. That was three months ago for an official walk-through with Starfleet Command personnel. The day before that, Voyager had emerged from the Borg sphere and landed on Earth. The day before that, she had been in the Delta Quadrant.

It’s never been just you and me, _Voyager_ , she thought. There’s always been personnel, technicians, crewmembers. Well, Reg thinks I need to say goodbye or figure out how to live with the new you — and I think he’s right.

Determined to visit every level, she started on deck 15. Working her way up, Kathryn soon reached Main Engineering. She brushed her fingertips against consoles and stared at the darkened warp core.

She remembered locking down the magnetic constrictors to prevent the core from overloading. She remembered kneeling to talk to the Doctor when he was furious at being reduced to just a few centimeters high. She remembered days where everything was perfectly in sync and days when everything seemed to be falling apart.

The engines were your heartbeat, _Voyager_ , she thought, and they are forever stilled.

She continued to the shuttlebay and computer core. This was deck 10, and she rested a hand on the forward photon torpedo launchers. The right side of her face prickled with the memory of the burns she had received after she slammed that launcher down as hard as she could to blast the time ship out of the 20th century sky.

On deck 8, in Astrometrics, she stood in front of the massive viewscreen. She thought about the hundreds of times Seven commed her to observe spatial phenomena on the display.

I first saw Reg on this viewscreen, Kathryn thought, and a few weeks after that I cried for the entire three minutes I had to talk with my mother.

As she walked the corridors and rooms, memory ghosts were everywhere — a Romulan in transporter room one, Borg in cargo bay two, Kes assisting the Doctor in sickbay, Neelix in the mess hall. Kathryn wasn’t sure if she could have called for full lights, but the dim lighting made the experience more dream-like, which seemed appropriate somehow. Sometimes, a memory made her smile. Other times, a memory gut-punched her and she would take a minute to recover.

Taking the turbolift when she chose to, using a Jeffries Tube when she preferred to climb, Kathryn had made her way around and up most of the ship. She needed to choose — her quarters last or the bridge last? Deciding to stick to her bottom-to-top approach, she entered her quarters.

Though Chakotay’s plan called for crew quarters to become a mix of office space for museum workers and classrooms for children who would visit the ship as part of their schooling, Kathryn’s quarters, at least, looked untouched. She had left everything behind when Voyager landed and had ignored Starfleet communiques to retrieve her items. The last communique, from four days ago, said everything not retrieved within a week would be recycled.

She reached for some of her books, but stopped herself before she touched them.

It had been such an intense seven years. Would objects bring back the bad memories or the good?

Kathryn walked out of her quarters empty-handed.

The silence had felt strange all over the ship, but when the turbolift doors opened to the bridge, it was profound. Kathryn looked down at her chair. She had wondered if it would seem larger or smaller, but the chair was exactly as she remembered.

Kathryn strode over to it and sat.

She spoke quietly but firmly, “Tuvok, what’s our weapons status? Harry, can you hail them? Tom, stay on course. B’Elanna, be ready to jump to warp. Chakotay, tell the crew to prepare for incoming fire.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then stood and walked to the Voyager plaque. Her palms prickled with the memory of pulling the plaque off the floor and brushing off the debris — residue from the last time she and Chakotay had fought this bitterly.

Kathryn entered her ready room. There were no stars through the viewport, just the sleeping city of San Francisco. But there, sitting on her desk, was her favorite coffee mug. “Well, Admiral,” Kathryn said, addressing the memory-ghost of her future counterpart, “history repeats itself and _Voyager_ will be a museum again. I’m glad one of us didn’t seem to mind.”

The realization hit her like a phaser blast.

Maybe she hated it, too, Kathryn thought. Maybe staring _Voyager_ in the face and thinking about what could have been helped embitter her, made her remember the failures and forget _Voyager_ was a family.... I can’t let that happen to me.

Kathryn met Chakotay at the starboard access door. She held her favorite coffee mug, and, thanks to a return trip to her quarters, her gramophone and a few of her books.

“OK?” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied. He turned to walk her down the gangplank. “I want to say something.” He turned and looked at her expectantly. “When I asked you to command the refit, I thought I knew that meant _Voyager_ was yours. But, I didn’t. You always talked about wanting to teach when we got home. I just didn’t realize Voyager would be your subject.”

“Neither did I,” he said. “I didn’t set out to mislead you, Kathryn. The opportunity just became too great. This war we missed with the Dominion — people are tired. Starfleet is tired. They need something to believe in, and _Voyager_ can be that.”

“To paraphrase what my future self once told me, Chakotay, this is your ship now, your choices. Not mine. I was wrong to be angry with you, or to think I could talk you out of something you'd set your mind to do with your ship.”

 “Thank you.”

“I’ll consult on the museum as needed, but I leave the overall project in your capable hands.”

Kathryn tilted her head to indicate the subject was closed. “Give my best to Seven.”

Chakotay tilted his head, too. “Give my best to Reg.”

She walked home, one arm cradling her gramophone, the other cradling her books, one hand gripping her coffee mug, the other free to key in the apartment entry code.

It was 0710, so Kathryn knew Reg would be getting ready for work. She put her gramophone and her books on the kitchen counter, but used the sonic cleaner on the coffee mug and then poured herself a cup from the carafe she had made earlier that morning.

Reg came out from the bedroom. “I thought I heard you come in,” he said, zipping up his uniform.

“How did it go? Did you say goodbye?”

“No, I didn’t,” Kathryn said.

“Chakotay let you on the ship by yourself, didn’t he? I was sure you would convince him.” “Oh, he did. But, I realized Voyager isn’t the old friend I need to say goodbye to — it’s the old friend I can keep in touch with as I watch my friend change.”

“So, you’re OK with the museum?”

“I wouldn’t say that ... but _Voyager_ is going to move from being a unique experience to a shared one, and I’m working on coming to terms with it.” Kathryn took a sip of coffee. “Chakotay said _Voyager_ could inspire people. Maybe I just need to be the first.”

“Hold on a minute,” Reg said and walked over to the coffee table to pick up his padd. He tapped it a few times and read:

... going out from you, tightly strung and in tune,  
I may rouse the blear-eyed world,  
And pour into it the beauty which you have begotten.  


At Kathryn’s quizzical look, Reg explained bashfully: “It’s from ‘The Giver of Stars’ by Amy Lowell from the book of poems I’ve been reading on my padd. What you said made me think of how the Voyager museum can be inspiring apart from you, but still be something you can feel good about.”

Kathryn put her coffee on the counter and pulled Reg into a hug. The warmth from his body and the security of his arms around her were always welcome, but especially after her chilly morning.

“Thank you,” she said and kissed him, tasting some of the coffee she had made, only with a hint of cream. She then quoted from memory a section of “The Things That Count” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox:

Now, dear, it isn’t the bold things,  
Great deeds of valour and might,  
That count the most in the summing up of life at the end of the day.  
But it is the doing of old things,  
Small acts that are just and right;  
And doing them over and over again, no matter what others say;  
In smiling at fate, when you want to cry, and in keeping at work when you want to play—  
Dear, those are the things that count.

Kathryn put her hand on the top book from the small stack she had brought from _Voyager_. “Page 173,” she said. “I may have read it a few times over those seven years.”

“It’s perfect. Are you going to tell Chakotay to put a copy of it at the entrance to the museum?” Reg asked.

“I can’t tell him anything,” Kathryn replied. “But I can suggest it.”

Reg glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have that early meeting today.”

“I could stand to get a few things done at my office. I’ll walk with you,” Kathryn said.

So, as the sun rose over San Francisco that chilly morning, Kathryn and Reg walked toward the Starfleet Command complex together, holding hands and talking about poetry from the past and their plans for the future.


End file.
